


Road Trip

by elcor_thespian



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, NOT EXPLICITLY ROMANTIC, Past Character Death, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 05:36:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7347238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elcor_thespian/pseuds/elcor_thespian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke and Varric try to pass time while driving through the Bannorn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Road Trip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iambic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iambic/gifts).



> Not gonna lie, this was heavily influenced through the months of traveling I've been doing through the midwest. Hope you like it.

   “I spy with my little eye…” Hawke trailed off, scanning the world outside the car’s windows. “Something boring,” he finally concluded with an exasperated sigh.  
   Varric chuckled, as he glanced out his driver’s side window. In every direction he was surrounded by dead beige and yellow grass, and open sky. “I’m not the one who planned a road trip through Northern Ferelden in the dead of winter. You should just be happy it’s not snowing.”  
   “Jokes on you then. I was looking at you.” Hawke slid down in his seat and propped his feet up on the dashboard. Varric was right of course, as usual. Hawke’s homeland could be very beautiful; in the spring the forests and farmland a like burst with greenery and delicate flowers, and the beaches of Lake Calenhad and the Amaranthine were filled with life and crystal clear in the summer. Hawke even remembered the colder months with a certain fondness, since he had not seen snow since moving to Kirkwall. But it was an unusually warm Drakonis, just warm enough to reveal the utterly depressing landscape left behind by the frost. Not exactly the idyllic pilgrimage home he had planned.  
   “Now, now don’t pout. You’ll end up like Fenris with your face stuck that way.”  
   Hawke laughed and smiled at the dwarf. He shouldn’t lose sight of the fact that Varric agreed to do this with him, even though he hated leaving home, and as it turns out got incredibly sick on airplanes. After they touched down in Amaranthine, and Hawke held Varric’s hair out of his eyes so that he could empty the last of the airplane’s peanuts into a trashcan, he had offered to cancel their return flight. However, Varric had said that if it were between projectile vomiting and driving back through Orlais, he would take the former. He was a good friend.  
   “Ok, ok I’ll do one.” Varric leaned in to the steering wheel and peered in to the horizon. Frowning, he looked in his side mirror and sighed. “Wow, no this place really is shit. Why do people live here?”  
   Hawke pulled a pamphlet from the door’s side pocket and cleared his throat to read aloud. “The Bannorn is the central lowland region of Ferelden, home to several minor lords and the bulk of the nation’s military strength. Main exports of the region include apples, wheat, and wool. It is also sucks a lot and is where many Fereldens go to retire when they’re sure nothing good will ever happen in their lives again.”  
   “It doesn’t say that,” Varric chuckled, trying to snatch the pamphlet from Hawke’s hand.  
   “I’m thinking of submitting a rewrite,” Hawke said, blocking Varric’s grasp with his shoulder and continuing his reading, “People here are very angry and are constantly fighting with each other over dumb shit because deep down they’re really very sad that their ancestors settled down somewhere so depressing. Many a Bann secretly dreams of burning down their keep to fake their own deaths, and using the insurance money to escape to Rivain to be serviced by cabin boys for the rest of their short and miserable lives.”  
   “What an interesting insight in to local customs,” Varric said, ruffling Hawke’s dark hair and returning to the wheel. The laughter died down and the two sat for a moment in silence. Varric leaned down to turn on the radio.  
   “And Maferath bound his wife’s hands and delivered her to the Archon to be put to death.”  
   “Yikes,” Varric muttered under his breath as he hit the skip button.  
   “And so the Magisters breached the Golden City and brought doom to man. Yes sir, they brought sin on to the world. And now you have to repent for their actions, yes sir, repent-“ Another swift strike on the skip button.  
   “And now mages want to get married? I’m sorry, but that’s not the Thedas I grew up in, and I think that is King Alistair is seriously considering this referendum we should reconsider if he really has the people’s best interests at-“  
   “Maker’s balls Hawke, haven’t these people heard of music?” Varric said angrily as he hit the off button, “What Age did this country get left behind in?”  
   “Oh they have…but it’s mostly Andrastian Rock.” Hawke answered dispassionately while thumbing through his phone. “Every so often they take a break from preaching about the evils of magic to play a metal version of the Chant. That’s always interesting.”  
   Varric groaned and leaned back in his chair, “Remind me why I’m here?” Hawke looked at him and arched an eyebrow. “Oh right. Sorry.”  
   Hawke went back to his phone, flicking through old photos. It had been years since he had been home, but he had kept the pictures and looked at them every so often when he felt homesick. From his screen a small girl beamed up at him with a wide toothy grin. Bethany. She must have only been ten or eleven in this picture. No, she was definitely ten. He could see that one of her pigtails was shorter than the other. Carver had put gum in it and their mom had had to cut it out with kitchen scissors. Took ages to grow back, but Bethany had had her revenge when she used a fire spell to singe off Carver’s eyebrows. Hawke tried to make them grow back, but accidentally made the spell too powerful, and effectively gave Carver’s eyes thick, bushy curtains. Man, no wonder Carver thought he was an asshole.  
   “Hey Hawke, I spy with my little eye something green!” Varric shoved Hawke’s shoulder and gestured out the passenger’s window. Slowly a bright green sign on the side of the road grew closer until Hawke could read the words.  Hawke’s heart jumped in his throat and he looked back down at his phone. Varric’s smile faded and he reached down to take Hawke’s hand. Hawke relaxed a little at his touch and looked back at his travel partner.  
   “Thanks for coming with.”  
   “Anytime,” Varric said, squeezing Hawke’s hand a little harder. Hawke smiled and put his phone back in his backpack on the floor, careful not to disturb the bouquet of flowers at his feet.  
   127 miles to Lothering.


End file.
